So Much Better Than Lollipops
by ournoisyhearts
Summary: Dean decides he likes the taste of cherry popsicle much, much better. Wincest.


**Note: This is a sequel-ish thing to my previous fic, "Damn Those Lollipops." You might want to read that before you read this, but you don't have to.**

Dean can survive lollipops. Those, he can survive no problem. But popsicles?

Now _that's _crossing the line.

It probably doesn't help that him and Sam are in the middle of Arizona, the sun beating down on their backs, sweat slick across both their cheeks. It's way too bright out for ten o'clock in the morning, and Dean turns to Sam, who is busy sprawled out across the hood of the Impala, researching on his laptop.

"Tell me again why you can't do your creepy geek boy stuff inside the air conditioned diner?" Dean questions, wiping the beads of sweat forming on his brow away with the back of his hand. Sam looks up, his bangs stuck to his forehead and his cheeks red from the heat, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

"What, is it too hot out here for you?" He teases, turning so that his legs are dangling off the side of the car. From where Dean sits on the bench a few feet away, he looks surprisingly shorter, and honestly, it's kind of freaky considering how abnormally tall Sam is.

"No," Dean answers quickly, pulling his sunglasses down over his eyes. They are pulled over at a random diner on the side of the freeway, and the second Sam noticed the "free Wi-Fi" sign hanging in the window, he had his computer out and was immediately clacking away on the keys.

These are the times when Dean wonders how on earth they are related.

"Good, because I'm perfectly fine out here," Sam replies with a tiny smirk. Dean rolls his eyes behind his glasses and stands up, stretching his arms overhead.

"Bitch," he sneers and turns to walk into the diner, Sam's "jerk" fading away behind him.

The cool air hits him the second he enters through the swinging glass door, and he stands in the entryway for a minute enjoying the refreshment before walking all the way inside. It's more of a half-diner, half-store, with some tables and a kitchen to the left and shelves full of knick knacks to the right. Dean wanders through the aisles a bit, grabbing two bottles of water for him and Sam and some random candy bars, setting them in front of the cashier. He pays his five dollars and twelve cents and is on his way back out the door when Sam nearly runs him over on his way in.

"Frickin' sasquatch," he mumbles, shoving his brother firmly on the shoulders. Sam just chuckles and moves past Dean into the store. "Dude, I have candy!" Dean calls, but Sam ignores him and wanders out of sight. Shrugging, Dean exits the store and climbs back into the Impala, tossing his bag onto the passenger seat and starting the engine. He waits for a few minutes until Sam emerges from the building, plastic bag tucked into his hand.

Dean's first thought is _crap, lollipops?_ But that theory is erased quickly when Sam moves the stuff out of his seat and climbs in, shutting the door behind him.

"It's hot out," he says simply, pulling something out of the bad.

_Dammit!_

"I hate you," Dean curses, eyeing the popsicle in Sam's hand with dismay. Sam grins and gives Dean a look that says _who, me?_ Before pulling the wrapper off the popsicle and taking a long lick. Dean adverts his gaze and pulls out of the parking lot, keeping his attention focused on the road while Sam hums and licks away, whining every now and then when some of the popsicle juice drips onto his hand.

"It's _sticky,"_ he complains, wiping one hand on his jeans. Dean rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything, using all of his willpower not to look over at his brother. The continuous sound of Sam's lips smacking on the cold treat becomes too much for Dean, so he cranks up one of his old AC/DC cassettes and narrows his eyes on the large expanse of highway ahead of them.

"I found a hunt," Sam says finally, licking the remnants of the lollipop from the stick and stuffing it back into the plastic bag. Dean turns slightly to look at him and notices that his lips are stained red, as well as his hands. It's worse than the yellow from the lollipop. _Much, much worse._

You see, Dean has this thing with cherry popsicles. He **loves **them. Almost as much as he loves pie.

But not quite.

Anyway, he loves cherry popsicles, and Sam sure as hell knows it. In fact, if Dean didn't know any better, he'd say Sam was using that against him.

"So much better than those lollipops," Sam adds with a smirk. Dean's hands immediately tighten on the steering wheel as he glares over at his brother.

"Cut it out," he grumbles, eyes flashing in irritation.

Sam just hums in reply, a full out grin appearing on his face. "Why, am I bothering you, Dean?"

"Shut up," Dean hisses, gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles begin to turn white. He reaches forward and turns the volume on the stereo up a few notches so that Sam's voice is only a murmur from beside him.

Even with the noise of AC/DC blasting around them, Sam's cherry red lips practically scream at Dean. He desperately wants to stop the car, jump on Sam, and taste his full, pouty lips, but he doesn't. Because that would be wrong. Because they're brothers. Because-

Oh, to hell with brotherhood.

Dean jerks the steering wheel to the side, the Impala bouncing off the cement road and into the dirt. Sam mouth opens in protest, but Dean kills the engine stops any words of arguments from Sam by crushing his mouth to his.

It's awkward at first. Sam keeps grunting and mumbling "Dean, what the fuck!" against his lips, but eventually he just gives up and kisses back. Dean sweeps his tongue across his baby brother's lower lip, the taste of cherry popsicle invading his mouth. It's like heaven. He can't believe he'd wanted to do this when Sam had been sucking on those ridiculous pineapple lollipops. The cherry floods his senses, and he finally pulls back for breath, breathing hard. Sam's face is flushed, his mouth even more bright red than before.

"So much better than lollipops," Dean mumbles, leaning forward again and capturing Sam's mouth with his own.

"Hey!" Sam whines, pulling back. "You stole my line!"

Dean grins. "What's your point?"

Sam begins to mumble something in reply, but Dean is already back on top of him, savoring the flavor of cherry popsicle in his mouth.


End file.
